01 August 2000 ~ My man, Angelo...

"Hi, Shelly!!!"

"Hey girl! How ya been???"

"Fantastic! You?"

"Fantastic? Ooohh!"

"Absolutely fantastic!"

"What's his name?"

"Hey, now! Shelly! He doesn't have a name. I'm just in a fantastic mood!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Really, what's his name?"

I turned my CD-player off, hung the headphones around my neck, and said, "Currently, Miss Shelly, the man who makes me happiest in the world is the one in my CD-player now... His name is Angelo." Shelly grinned and asked what his last name was. I gave her a pretend glare. "Badalamenti," I replied, saying it as fast as I could. I was playing the "Fire Walk With Me" soundtrack, composed by Angelo; it's the kind of music you should play while walking down Murray Street in the middle of the night, and doesn't really match the whole theme of Arby's in the Oakdale Mall, but at least it was useful in shutting Shelly up momentarily. I do love that woman, but occasionally, she can be such a pain.

I haven't been so happy in a very, very long time. Contrary to popular belief, it has precious little to do with a man. Any man. Or woman, for that matter.

I was looking into the mirror last night -- just kind of caught a glimpse as I was leaving the bathroom -- and realized that I am really beautiful. Like, if I was walking down the street and passed me, I'd do a double-take. Maybe it's the new haircut -- kind of a cross between Paul McCartney circa 1965, and a twelve-year-old boy, circa 1997. Surprisingly, it looks very good on me. Not only does it look good on me, but... it looks like me... Like how I WANT to look. I was wearing old bluejeans and a tank top (circa 1997) from a sweet little hippie-import shop called Jan's. I wasn't quite hippie, I wasn't quite preppy, I wasn't quite weird-little-tomboy. I was just me. Not modelled after anything or anyone or any stupid idea of whatever stupid group I might want to fit into. In the mirror, I was just me, and I was beautiful. Not just, "wow, I look good," but... for a brief second, I took my own breath away.

I'm not used to liking myself.

I've stopped defining myself in terms of other people, I suppose.

And I've stopped looking for somebody to save me.

In the past few years, I've learned how to save myself. Not very easily, and not without a lot of near-self-destruction, but I don't really need anybody to rescue me anymore.

And recently, I've become very aware of it. That I don't NEED anybody to tell me who to be. That because somebody loves me, it doesn't necessarily make me a complete person.

I think -- I'm not sure; all of this is sort of tentatively creeping through my mind for the first time -- that I am done filling myself with other people. I'm done waiting and wanting and all of that bullshit. I'm done NEEDING.

I guess I'm happy because I'm me; nobody else's idea of me. I'm a real person. I'm a real person AND I'm not with somebody -- how's that for you? I don't really need anybody to make me who I am.

I was a little offended when Shelly asked me "what's his name?" I was even more offended when Peter -- upon hearing about my conversation with Shelly -- said (more than a little bitterly, I might add), "I know what his name is..." Maybe he doesn't have a name. Maybe I DON'T need a person to make me happy.

I'm happy because... the sunset tonight was beautiful. Because I got to close at Java Joe's with Dave. Because the other day, I let two little kids feed the fish and they were both delighted and squealed to their mother, "Lookit the shark, mommy!" Because I have a freaking awesome haircut. Because today I made friends with somebody who I didn't think wanted to be my friend (until I said, "remember the time we got drunk together on new year's and yelled out the window at all the firemen?" -- and she vaguely remembered and said, "yeah! that was you? you have better hair now..."). Because I made a lot of money today and I dutifully stashed half of it in the SuperSecretStash so that someday I can learn to drive, and get a car, and go to college, and move out of this town, and all of that. Because I took my garbage out and my kitchen doesn't smell nasty anymore. Because I reserved webspace for a project Nathan and I are going to work on together. Because I know what the "c" stands for in E equals MC squared, and I know that the Historic Route 66 Museum of Oklahoma isn't actually ON Route 66. Because I recognized all five songs on the Top-5-at-8 countdown on the local top-40 station. Because Angelo B. fucken rocks my world, even if he doesn't really belong in a mall setting.

Because if I was, theoretically, to fall madly in love right now, I would have something to offer -- not just nurture and love and all that other Hallmark bullshit, but a whole person. I've got a damned life, and I'd very much like to share it with somebody. But it's MY life, and I'm proud of it, and I'm proud of me. And theoretically, if I was to fall in love right now, I could share my life with somebody and not need anything in return. I really believe that. And knowing that, I'm even happier.

I'm happy because I've got a chocolate-chip banana muffin in my kitchen. And mushroom-barley soup. And because the last time I was on Napster, it managed to shut down my entire computer somehow, BUT I got my song first. I'm happy because I saw little kids playing basketball the other day, and they couldn't even get the ball three feet in the air. I'm happy because it rained today and I was inside all day watching it in relative comfort. I'm happy because I think I look really good right now, even though I'm just wearing old boxers and an ancient (bloodstained -- ???) Java Joe's shirt and I haven't shaved my legs in like, way too long. I'm happy because I wore my shirt with the peacock on it today, and nobody sang the "NBC" thingy at me. I'm happy because Dave suggested a new drink to me today and it sounds amazing, and when I get a 21-year-old friend and time to be hungover in the morning, I'm going to try it. I'm happy because I successfully talked to a cop without clenching my fists and being really nervous.

I'm happy because I've got sleepytime tea and honey and lemon juice, and I'm drinking it out of a mug with my name on it. And because I made Nathan a card-thing out of dried orange flowers and broken glass, and he liked it as much as I hoped he would.

Because I ALMOST finished my play last night, and would have except for various distractions.

Because I've got something to offer.

I have to go. My new housemate is trying to get me to vote for Hilary and I'm going to bed out of self-preservation.

~H*